Twelfth Apostle
by Shrapnel893
Summary: Universal Century 0096, end of the Laplace Incident. Marida Cruz awakens on a hospital bed on Side 3, her friends and loved ones far away, their lights faint, yet knowing they're shining brighter than ever. Now, she must adapt to civilian life and all of the troubles that come with it. Along the way, she meets new faces and uncovers old ghosts. (MaridaxOC) (AU)
1. What The Distant Heart Seeks

**0. What the Distant Heart Seeks**

The young woman rested the flat of her hand on the cold surface of her mobile suit, a refreshing sensation that multiplied as she stroked her fingers across it. Even though it had been repaired into a new construct, stripped of its basic frame and weaponry, it was still familiar to her touch. Each stroke beneath her palm brought forth a memory of each battle fought and even though there were no scars and abrasions etched into its surface anymore, she still felt them. They were a part of her, and they would never wither or disappear. She remembered words she spoke once before:

"Compassion alone cannot save people," she whispered under her breath, feeling her way through the reaches of her mind as her fingers continued to move across her mobile suit's surface. "It can't erase sin or wash away our impurities. But, in spite of it all..."

In spite of it all. Those words, she wondered what they meant and why she had said them back then. _In spite of it all._ She mulled over the words as she watched her hand gently move around, this way and that way; slowly.

"It's all too sad," she echoed the words of her fellow pilot, friend to herself and the Princess. Removing her hand from the surface of her mobile suit, she looked down at the lines patterning across her palm, lines that represented years upon years of sadness and pain. Sorrow. Curling her fingers, she continued to mull over those words, and the reason behind them. It all started, she realized, with touch of a human hand, the warmth of another.

_Opening her blue eyes for the first time, everything was blank and unfamiliar. Everything she saw was confined behind glass, blurred by the coldness needed to preserve her body. Encased inside her capsule, she blinked for the first time as she took her first breath of air; it was cold. It was cold and dark, lonely and quiet, lying inside the capsule, but, it lasted only a few seconds more, as the capsule opened and her newly awakened senses were bathed in white light. A hand, unknown to her, grasped one of her own and pulled her up. It was warm, the hand._

_"Welcome to this world. Do you feel cold?" a voice said, the owner of the hand that had pulled her up. A young man wearing the colors of Neo Zeon was before her, with a smiling expression that was colder than the temperature that she now felt within the room; sending a sudden chill down her spine. The first time she had felt human warmth and human coldness were in the exact same moment, and as the young man further helped her out of the capsule, she knew he was her master._

_"You're the twelfth one," he continued as she planted both of her naked feet firmly on the floor. "Your sisters are working outside." The calm and reassuring tone to his voice was in stark contrast with the cold expression still on his face, hidden behind a smile. He still held onto her hand; it was still warm. "Come with me to the outside world."_

Glemy Toto. That was his name, she found out years later. Her first master amongst many down a long list filled with suffering. His name, who he was, it hadn't mattered to her then, and when his beloved, Roux Louka, took his life, she hadn't wept. The only thing that changed was who's orders she would receive and carry out from then on.

Her sisters, too, had perished at the Battle of Axis, and she, the only one besides Ple Two, had defied the dedication and service they had all upheld to their late first master. For the others, it would be their first, and their last. She had wept then, for them. Each of them had come from the same being, but, as with everyone else, they each were different than the source they were created from. Individuals, only with the same face and abilities; individual souls.

The concept of a "soul", the term she had pondered over and over all those years ago, still stuck with her even now. She had thought then: _could a soul be lonely?_ If her sisters were still alive today, would they be wondering the same things as she? Would they be still be different as they were back then, or would they become one and the same? A single entity only existing to follow their master and his or her orders, without question? Would they— _no,_ they were dead now, and they couldn't be brought back, no matter how much she longed them to be beside her. Now she knew: _yes, a soul can be lonely._

There was a void in her heart where eleven little identical but different lights had once shone brightly, snuffed out in a matter of milliseconds as she had floated aimlessly in space, in the darkness. All those years ago. The bond with her sisters had been severed in those milliseconds, and she had desperately reached out for the lines that had connected them, only managing to grasp the thin air inside the cockpit; nothingness.

Balling her hand into a fist, she let it fall to her side as she looked up at her mobile suit, her blue eyes still searching for an answer to the words: _in spite of it all._

Walking out back to her quarters, Marida still pondered the words, her mind reaching out to other memories that she'd rather leave buried. Ones that she knew she couldn't avoid in order to figure out the real meaning behind them; _in spite of it all._

_The escape pod had been cramped and dark; lonely. The landing had jostled her small frame around the cramped environment and as a result her face had collided with the back of her seat and knocked her unconscious. She woke to the smell of dried blood and blaring lights, her escape pod's emergency systems still online. Looking through her helmet proved to be futile as it was smeared on the inside with vomit and the blood she smelt. Cracks across the thermoplastic glass of her helmet were sealed thanks to the functions of her normal suit. Slamming into the bulkhead overhead had caused those cracks, and it was then that she realized that the pod was facing upward. Upon removing her helmet, a pounding migraine ripped its way through her skull, and she let out a gasp of pain, clutching the side of her face in response._

This is my punishment for defying my dedication to master. _She thought, inhaling and exhaling rapidly, as the pain shot its way down to the rest of her body._ This is my punishment for abandoning my sisters._Reaching out to the escape pod's hatch, her mind became blank and her vision wavered as she started to lose consciousness again._ This is the punishment for my betrayal.

Clutching the same side of her face as back then, Marida held onto the handle that went down the corridor to her quarters, and time stopped as she gasped for air.

_Ple Twelve slumped inside of the escape pod, her mind listlessly floating around inside her head:_ as an individual, a soul, it were as if I killed them with my own two hands. I'm horrible. I abandoned them. I'm a traitor. Master's dead too, I can't...

_The pressurized sound of the hatch being opened caused her to look up, and she reached out, believing for a second that Heaven had come to take her back to where her sisters were. As the hatch fully parted, she was bathed in a white light and she shielded her eyes from its intensity, and that was when a form appeared. It blocked the harsh white light from outside and encased her in darkness, and it was then that Ple Twelve knew: this was to be her second master._

_Months later, unkempt and filthy, she'd came under the thumb of a new master. This time, it was a cruel and vile woman who only saw the value in other people as things to be used and discarded. It was this new master that had broken her, that had violated her, and had given her the most punishment for her betrayal. Multiple scars and burns were accumulated over the years with her third master, and frequently, she would be temporarily given to a new master each night, and sometimes, the same one multiple times. Countless times, she didn't feel anything at all. Countless times, nothing registered in her mind other than how to serve the constant fluctuation of new masters, and to follow her third master's commands. All she remembered were the lights of the headlamps hanging from the ceiling and the creaking of the beds, the harsh voice of her third master, and the feeling of something, always heavy, been removed from her stomach. Then, one day, the man who was to be her fourth master came._

Marida stood in front of her quarters, staring at the door. Blue eyes downcast, she remembered the first time she had met Zinnerman; her fourth master, and smiled.

Whatever awaited on this last battlefield, she was ready for it. In spite of it all.

* * *

**A / N:** I've had this particular story floating around in my thoughts for quite a while. I'm not going to reveal much, other than if you haven't watched Gundam IGLOO, Gundam ZZ, or Gundam Unicorn (read the novels, whichever), you may be lost, as I use characters from each of those stories to make this one. Also, there's one specific episode from Gundam Evolve that's referenced as well.


	2. Start Sequence

**|. Start Sequence**

Miniature display monitor resting on his lap, Lucas watched it blink on and off as he used the grappling arms of his TOLRO-800 to clear twisted metal and rock from a section of space outside Side 3. He wiped his brow — easy but tiresome work. He looked around his cramped cockpit, out the domed glass casing protecting him from the cold nothingness of outer space. Twisting to look behind, red lights from the landing station were illuminating the back of his 800. Which, did absolutely nothing as his petite mobile suit was already red to begin with, expect make it a brighter shade. Shining off the once polished metal, now caked in dust and whatever else he'd been sifting through during his shift today. Yet, even as he was sweaty, his 800 dirtied, and his shift still not over, he smiled.

"Only another thirty minutes to go," he said in reassurance. Then, his eyes went down to the monitor on his lap; it'd blinked again. He frowned; those blinks were explosions from the battle being broadcast somewhere by Side 1. Unwrapping a candy bar, he chewed it thoughtfully as he watched the battle rage on. The broadcast was solely focused on the white mobile suit that was wreaking havoc on what looked to be modified Zaku II's. "A Gundam, huh?" Another bite of the candy bar. The screen lit up with more light from explosions and sounds of beam weapons, as well as a few more or less outdated projectile weapons. The Gundam engaged in combat with another Gundam, only this one appeared to be black. They grappled with one another, each giving off some type of light as they did so. Without warning, missiles fired from another mobile suit separated them, what he could only think of as a large green bell pepper, swooping in. It fired off another series of missiles, and appeared to be engaging the black Gundam, the white one disengaging to join another section of the battlefield.

He continued to watch, spell-bound, as the large green bell pepper mobile suit managed to go head-to-head with the black Gundam, even succeeding in blowing off one of its lower legs. The two of them stopped then, floating there, as if in suspended animation. The black Gundam, seemingly impatient, fired its beam cannon at his opponent, hitting the right side of where the cockpit was located, only to have his aim veer further right, destroying the large green bell pepper mobile suit's entire right side.

He was so fixated on the battle being fed through the miniature display monitor on his lap that he'd forgotten where he was and hit a drifting chunk of debris, scratching up his TOLRO-800, and banging his head on the glass of his cockpit. Cursing, the monitor having fallen off and broken, Lukas grudgingly accepted his mistake and went back to clearing debris. A nostalgic smile— whoever the pilot of that green mobile suit was, he was very skilled. The way he moved reminded him vaguely of Léon when he'd watched her pilot the same TOLRO-800 that he was using now. That same feeling of awe. The smile curled downwards. The pilot of that mobile suit was probably dead, given the damage.

"What a waste," he said under his breath as the red light from the landing station turned green, telling him the shift was over.

—◄╟╬╢►—

"You're just seeing things. Quit inhaling the fumes from your 800."

Lucas May propped his arm on one of the railings overlooking the medical facility on Side 3, a sour look on his face. "Sis, I'm telling the truth here. She was right there on the stretcher. Orange hair, blue eyes, same face, sorta." He waved his hand around in a circular motion, scowling when Léontine loudly took another bite of her ice cream. Mint green with some kind of chocolate sprinkles. "You listening?"

"Yeah," she gulped, a sigh escaping her lips, "but the possibility of someone looking like me isn't uncommon. Tons of people look alike and aren't related." A grin. "Though, the possibility of someone looking as ugly as you is slim."

"I'm being serious here, she looked exactly like you— sorta."

"And what about it? This girl you saw isn't as important as that broadcast we saw earlier. Who would have thought the last Zabi was a little girl?"

"About the girl, there was an emblem on her uniform, and it looked like—"

"Yeah, all those frills and trappings were unnecessary. Something simpler would have been better. Then again, she is the last Zabi, or whatever, so I guess—"

"No, not her, I mean the girl who looks like you."

"Are you still going on about that?"

"She had a Neo-Zeon emblem on her uniform. You know, like one of the ones at our house."

"Those are Zeon emblems, you moron." A crunch as she started on the cone. "There's a difference. Do you ever pay attention in school? I'm embarrassed to be indirectly related. No wait, I'm sorry for Mom and Dad. An engineering nerd like you who doesn't even know the difference between a Zeon and Neo-Zeon symbol."

"Shut up, it doesn't even matter. Look, all I'm saying is she could be a pilot from that battle. If so, wouldn't this be a good chance to have a one on one chat with a real mobile suit pilot?"

Léontine blinked. "Are Mom and Dad outdated units to you or something? They used to be pilots too."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just, the prospect of meeting one from this day and age, doesn't that excite you?"

"Nope." She finished the cone and rubbed his head, messing up his hair. "I'm heading back to work. If you really want to meet this girl, first you're a weirdo, and second, I'm not going to help nor am I sure you'll even make it passed security. A mobile suit pilot, especially a Neo-Zeon, will probably be monitored here. Well, more like sheltered..."

"I'm not going to sneak in, I'm going to schedule a visit."

She looked at him then, making a face, "_Weird-o._"

"Whatever, if you're not going to be any help then—"

"Exactly what I'm doing?" she said as she started to walk away, hands in her pockets, ballcap pulled down to protect against the light. She waved a farewell as she disappeared into the crowd.

Eyes back on the medical facility, Lukas wondered just how he'd make it in there. Sis was right, they wouldn't just let him snag any appointment. Dad was a part of the maintenance staff there, so he could try and work there, or Mom could use her authority to get him an evaluation to ultimately get in, but then he'd have no time to meet with the girl. _Unless he snuck in. _No, he wasn't like Sis.

His memory when back to her on the stretcher. The right side of her body— no, the pilot that had awed him back then was dead, she couldn't be the one. This pilot... _she_ was most certainly alive. She'd had an oxygen mask on, as well as a whole bunch of staff surrounding her as they wheeled her inside. Blood had been splashed all over her uniform. She'd take quite a while to recover, by first glance alone. If that was the case, the chances of him getting in to see her were slim. He wasn't even sure if she'd survive that long. _Unless, he snuck in._

A shake of the head. No, he had to keep it together. Resorting to Sis's methods of doing things were bound to end badly for him. Besides, he was much less agile than her anyway— that was why she was training to be an expert and not himself. Mobile suits, though, she wasn't allowed to pilot. Dad's orders. Spending half his time every other day in front of that lodestone, polishing it and the names engraved, he could see the reason why. Maybe he'd know the best way to handle his dilemma. Yeah, Dad would know. He was following his footsteps as an engineer, after all, so they must be on somewhat of the same wavelength.

Returning home, he went around the back to the warehouse where his father usually spent his time working on medical equipment in his spare time, but instead found his mother, orange hair tied back into a ponytail, staring intensely at one of the maintenance screens. She was biting on her thumbnail, eyes darting this way and that. Approaching slowly, he tried to not make a sound, when she spoke.

"Watch your step, there are cables all over the floor. You probably just stepped on one, because my readings just fluctuated."

He looked down, his foot on a cable just like she'd said. Quickly, he stepped off it and apologized. Looking over at the TOLRO-800, he noticed a few extras attached to the outside of the cockpit.

"I took the liberty of upgrading it for you." His mother went on, numbers and lines on the screen blinking. "And, the readings are back to normal." Then, "Was there something you wanted from me, or did you just want to check up on your 800?"

"Actually, Mom, I wanted to ask you about something."

"Hmm?"

"It's about the hospital. You see, there's this girl that was recently brought in, and she was wearing a Neo-Zeon uniform. I think she's a mobile suit pilot from that battle. You know, the one from the broadcast. I think it would be a good learning opportunity if I go and see her, but I'm having trouble going about it."

"Getting into the hospital?" His mother pondered as she stared at her monitor, going over modifications and other maintenance issues. "To see a girl? My, my, someone's love struck." Her eyes flashed. "And a Neo-Zeon mobile suit pilot at that? You're becoming more like Oliver every year."

"No, that's—! I mean, all I want to do is ask her a few questions about her experiences in a real mobile suit! I'm not in love with her or anything, I just..."

"And, what, the stories I've told you about my Zudah aren't good enough for you? What happened to that boy who's eyes used to always twinkle when I talked about the time I saved your dork of a father during A Baoa Qu? You know, I was supposed to be its pilot back then, but," her eyes left the screen, one of her hands tightening into a fist on her desk, "I lost my nerve. And, it's a funny thing, you know, how much you resemble him..." She mumbled something, bit her bottom lip, sighed, and then turned around in her chair. "So, what does she look like?"

Lukas scratched his cheek and blushed, looking away. "Well, would you believe me if I told you she looked like Léon?"

She blinked. "Yes."

"Really?"

A nod as she got to her feet and turned to look at the TOLRO-800. Her green eyes seemed to be searching for something, and then she turned back to her son. "The possibility of someone as pretty as your sister isn't far-fetched, after all." She smiled, coming closer and pulling on his cheek. "Of course, there's also the possibility of another person being as handsome as you. You're just as handsome as your father, but the both of you are as stubborn as your uncle used to be. There's bound to be people who look alike even though they aren't related. With all the people in the universe now, there's always the possibility."

"You sound like Sis. Is that where she gets it from?"

"Gets what?" She backed way when he scratched his cheek again, lightly reddened from the pinch. "You're as bad as Oliver, you know that?" She crossed her arms and pouted. "So... questioning..." An exasperated sigh. "Well, anyway, you still want advice about your girl troubles, right?"

He blushed again, looking away again as he made a face. "Yeah, that's right."

"So you admit it?" His mother grinned.

"N-no! Just... what do you think? Can I go in and see her? Make an appointment?"

"Why don't you go there and find out? Or, you could just sneak in." His mother pondered the idea of a moment, then nodded with a smile. "It's not like they're going to do anything too horrible if you get caught."

Putting a hand of his face, he shook his head. "N-nevermind, forget I said anything. I'll just go and do what I should've done in the first place." Turning on his heel, he left to head back to the medical facility, his mother's parting words echoing in his ears as his face turned red for a third time.

_Make sure you bring back a name._


	3. Awakening

**||. Awakening**

_Gunfire. Explosions lighting up the space all around. High-pitched voices on the comlink as they relayed coordinates and other information to one another. Hands on the controls of her Qubeley, Ple Twelve pressed a series of buttons to bring up an all-encompassing view of her surroundings, spotting Ple Seven's own mobile suit taking down an enemy with her funnels, green beams of energy impaling the enemy's mobile suit from every angle. Her older sister dived up and around another, blasting him away with her main cannons, mounted on the back. They turned up and came down to face backwards, shooting at another enemy further away. As it burst into flames and burned up in the nothingness of space, her older sister's face appeared on a small screen in front of her, uppermost right._

"_Twelve, pay attention, Master expects no failures. Stay on me and don't get lost."_

_She nodded. "Understood."_

_Swiveling her mobile suit around, she boosted to Ple Seven's location and together the two of them joined up with Ple's Three and Eleven. Ple Three's Qubeley was damaged, a wing shot through, wires and a mass of twisted metal where the tip of it once was. Her cockpit also looked to be dented, the residue from an impacted missile round visible. Two more screens came up, Ple Three a little above center left and Ple Eleven the bottommost right. Blood was trickling down Ple Three's forehead and her voice came out strained over the comlink._

"_Broken arm, won't be much use." Her voice was a bit deeper than the others, and it showed when she grunted. "Can't do much without the arm, but I can still provide enough support. Seven, I want you to take the lead." Her eyes darted to one of her other feeds. "There's a large collection of enemy suits, led by that red one, far upper right, mid center."_

"_I see them," Ple Seven responded, attention shifting between her feeds._

"_Eleven, I want you to stay near Twelve. The two of you provide backup fire while I use my funnels and Seven shields us."_

"_Got it!" Ple Eleven nodded. When Ple Three and Seven closed their screens, hers was still open. "Right, did you get that Twelve?" She smiled._

_A nod. "Yes."_

"_I'll move to the left, you take the right."_

_Another nod. "Understood."_

_Ple Twelve closed her comlink and moved into formation, cannons locking on targets as she followed behind Ple Seven. A dozen funnels flew by on either side and hovered above the enemy mobile suits, raining down rays of death as she and Ple Eleven let loose with their cannons, ripping through the enemy mobile suits not fast enough to evade. The red one encased itself in a shield of energy, the beams deflecting away. The four of them dispersed Minovsky Particles so that none of the beams hit their Qubeleys, and the moment Ple Three stopped her funnels from firing, she ordered them to stay back._

_Ple Twelve watched as her older sister fired her main cannons while simultaneously charging the red enemy mobile suit, ramming into it. Before they could react, their older sister and the enemy pilot both exploded, bits of their mobile suits peppering their Qubeley's black and red armor. The comlink came alive with more activity than ever as she and her sisters mourned their loss, then became stoic as they were forced to accept the fact Ple Three was no longer with them. One of her screens opened up, Ple Nine's enraged face filling it._

"_Keep fighting, there are still enemies to take down!" Her shoulder moved in the feed, fingers pressing a series of buttons and out of her Qubeley's side view Ple Twelve saw her older sister's Qubeley coming up fast. "Master's enemies must all be destroyed, remember that!"_

_Just then, a cold chill ran down Ple Twelve's spin, as if the world had collapsed in on itself, everything becoming dark. Her sisters felt it too, all at once their faces becoming visible on the screens. That same look of anguish, and soon enough, a few of the started to panic, starting with Ple Ten, who exclaimed what they'd all feared to say._

"_Ple Three! She's gone! And, the Master's dead too! They killed him!"_

_Her comlink filled with frantic chatter and she noticed Ple Eleven's Qubeley drifting closer towards her, as if the heat emanating from her Qubeley's thrusters would keep the coldness away. The feeling of loss. On her screen, she looked pale, while __Ple Seven's face was far from forlorn, in contrast, almost as if Master's death empowered her own resolve to keep fighting. __Ple Nine shouted something to shut them all up, her own face even redder with rage. Ple Four's voice, soothing and calm, came clear through their comlinks then._

"_Keep it together, all of you. We still have a task that's been given to us: to destroy Master's enemies, whether they be 'Gundam or 'Haman'. Everyone form a line, we'll hit our Master's enemies with one decisive blow!"_

"_You heard Four! Get your butts in motion!" Ple Nine shouted._

"_Eleven, Twelve! Let's move!" Ple Seven commanded, her Qubeley already on the move, boosting towards the coordinates their older sister had set for them. At that moment, a stray missile smashed into her, she and her Qubeley knocked off course and sent spinning through space away from them. Her image on the screen jostled as she was thrown around her cockpit, and it filled with static seconds later, cutting off her voice that told the two of them to keep moving towards the others._

"_Seven!" Ple Eleven screamed. She turned her Qubeley after their older sister's fading mobile suit in the distance, and Ple Twelve was about to boost after her when Ple Four's voice cut in._

"_There's no time! Eleven, get back here! Twelve, get in formation now!"_

_Silently obeying, Ple Twelve mourned the loss of her sister, as did Ple Eleven, getting into formation. Yet, she strayed a little backwards, unsure of herself and that of what their purpose was, or, if they even had one to begin with. The question came to her then, as even though she was among her sisters, she was lonely._

_Gripping at her controls, she looked down. __Could... a soul be lonely?_

_Ple Eleven's screen came to life then. "Twelve, come on! We can do this! Together, all of us! Three and Seven are still here!" Her sister touched her heart and smiled reassuringly. That sweet voice combined with her smile. The way her eyes twinkled like tiny stars, despite how exhausted she looked, coated in sweat._

_And, right then, her pleasant smile was overcome by a powerful light, as a beam tore its way through their battle-line, its intense heat vaporizing her sisters Qubeley's as it skimmed the space in front of her own, burning the head of her Qubeley and melting the outer shell of its armor, as all their lights vanished in the nothingness in space along with her anguish._

_And, desperately, crying dry tears, she reached out to grasp the fastly fleeting flickers that still remained in the darkness of her cockpit._

—◄╟╬╢►—

Marida opened her eyes to her arm outstretched towards the ceiling, trying to take the overhead lamp between her fingers, unable to reach. She retracted the hand and stared at the palm, clenching it into a fist and letting it fall back to the bed.

Regaining her senses, she looked around, smelling anesthetic. She knew where she was: a hospital. Yet, as her fingers grasped at the white sheets of her bed, she wished she wasn't. Life support systems were attached all over her body, feeding data to different machines beside her bed, an IV line in her arm regulating fluids. Her right arm was in a splint and cast. She couldn't feel it. In fact, she couldn't feel the whole right side of her body, and, she tried in vain to move that side of herself. A door slide open and a nurse entered, attention moving from her clipboard down to her.

"Y-you're awake!" she exclaimed, moving from the various machines in the room to the door. "Doctor! She's awake! Quickly!" The nurse rushed to her side, standing over her with a worried look in her eyes. "Don't try and move! Your body is still far from recovering!"

Marida nodded her understanding and they both turned their attention to the doctor as he entered the room. He was a thin man, hair grey and features grave. On his face was a smile.

"So, you are awake..." His eyes went to the monitors on the machines. "Everything looks stable from first glance. May I see the clipboard?" The nurse handed it to him and he flipped through its pages. "You were very lucky. The only injuries you sustained were a few broken bones, and cracked ribs, mainly in your arm and leg on the right side of your body. There was also internal bleeding, but we've managed to plug them. Your body will feel numb on the right side for a couple of days, so I ask that you not try and move as already instructed." He gave the clipboard back the nurse then produced a small hand-held device from his pocket, turning it on. "I was given this player from Mr. Zinnerman, who was unable to stay. He left it for you to view. Here," pulling up a table, he set the device on it and positioned so she could see, "this is for your eyes only. We'll leave the room. We hope you get well soon."

As the two of them left, Marida watched as the screen filled with Zinnerman's burly form. He was sitting somewhere on the _Nahel Argama._His features were shadowed by the area he was in, and the quality was somewhat poor, but she could hear the concern in his voice clearly.

"Marida, I'm leaving you in the care of someone I trust on Side 3, until this whole thing with Laplace's box cools down. Right now, I'm heading to meet with the Princess, who has begun a series of discussions over the future of Zeon and the Federation. It'll be awhile before I can come to see you, and... and I know you'll be alright on your own, so I shouldn't be worrying so much, shouldn't I?" He huffed and leaned back, linking his fingers together. "Your service is over from this point on, you're free to choose your own path from now on. No," he looked down then back up after a pause, "you've always been free. Now, all that's left for you to do is operate the controls." A faint smile. "I'll come back to—"

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here, Zinnerman." It sounded like the Princess. And, sure enough, her slender form filled the screen. Banagher was behind her. "We'll all come back to see you, once all of this is over."

"That's right. Riddhe too," Banagher said, smiling, "he's torn up about what he did. I know you've already forgiven him by now, and told him that, but even still..."

"Marida, thank you for taking care of me..." the Princess said then, as Zinnerman filled the screen again.

"Do what you want, Marida, your life is yours now, as it should have been from the beginning." Her fourth master smiled, tearing up as the recording became fuzzy and shut off.

Staring at the blank screen, Marida smiled once again. _Free to live her own life, huh?_ Looking down at her hand again, she flexed the fingers. To grasp her life between her fingertips and never let go, she smiled at the idea.

—◄╟╬╢►—

Léontine watched her younger brother enter the medical facility like he'd said he would, arms crossed over the railing they'd spent talking at the day before. She felt the presence of someone familiar, reaching out, but dispelled whatever it was and chuckled. Lucas really was a moron, wasn't he?

Standing up straight, she watched him argue with a guard who'd shuffled him outside, as the female mobile suit pilot couldn't have any visitors for the time being. Seemingly defeated, she watched her younger brother walk away with his head bowed, and when he walked the steps to the railing where she stood, the unexpected grin on his face.

"I got a name!"

Looking away, she laughed. "That so? Well? What is it, _Lovestruck_?"

His face turned red. "I-I'm not!"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand, "just get on with it."

"M-Marida! Her name is Marida!"

"Marida, huh?" Léontine repeated, voice soft. She stared down at the medical facility and went silent. Lucas came closer and asked if everything was alright, and she leaned on the railing again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking what the future Mrs. May will be like." She grinned.

"S-shut up! I'm coming back tomorrow, just you watch! I'll get in to see her!"

"Whatever you say, Lovestruck." She watched him turn around and stomp his way in the direction of their house, the lights above their heads dimming as it became nighttime and turned her gaze back to the medical facility.

"So, you're going by Marida now..." she whispered under her breath, touching her ball cap. "Is that it, Twelve?"

—◄╟╬╢►—**  
**

_Is that it, Twelve?_

She heard it. Looking up, she looked at the ceiling, the lamplight as it shined brightly. Had she been imagining it? A ghost from the past? As the light dimmed, she wanted to be wrong. Closing her eyes, she wanted to be with them once again, joined together as sisters. And yet, she...

"_You hold it like that, yeah," Ple Seven told her, hand over hers on one of the levers of her Qubeley. "Move it forward, like this, and..." The cockpit came to life and Ple Twelve looked at her older sister, beaming. "See? It's not hard at all."_

"_Twelve!" Ple Nine exclaimed, petite form in the open hatch. She was visibly a head shorter than the rest of them, but made up for it with a strong-willed personality that made her seem ten times taller. "You're with me! Seven, quit helping her! She's my partner, not yours! Go back to Eleven!" She leaned away, craning her neck. "She can't even get inside her suit!"_

_Ple Seven huffed, "Then why haven't you tried to help her out?!"_

"_Because she's your problem, not mine!"_

"_I'm coming now." She moved towards the hatch and stuck out her tongue as she passed, calling back as she landed on the platform for Ple Nine to make sure Ple Twelve got the hang of it. It was in her hands now._

_Ple Nine yelled back, "I know already! Get off my case!" She turned to her with a scowl. "Well, Twelve, it's you and me! I don't want you weighing me down when we start practice maneuvers, so I'm going to teach you everything I can so you don't become a burden!" She reached over and grasped her wrist. "Come on, first we're starting with training you outside in Zero-G!"_

_Her older sister practically dragged her out, not that she was resisting, and stepped on the platform. Ple Twelve could see everything in front clearly as Ple Nine led her away from the lined up Qubeley's, their sisters either going over their mobile suits or hanging around outside them, checking over other systems or chatting among themselves. The two of them encountered Ple Two as they made it to the door that led to the rest of the base, Ple Nine locking eyes with her as they went._

"_You're going to eat our dust when this is over, Two!" Ple Two just glared at her and Ple Nine scuffed. "You're going to be a million times less of an annoyance, Twelve, after I'm done with you!" Ple Nine told her as they went down the hallway. "Count on it!"_

_Ple Twelve looked back then at Ple Two, whose back was now turned to them, standing in the doorway to the hanger. The oldest sister. She was so... detached from the rest of them. And, as Ple Nine stopped in front of the Zero-G chamber, she wondered why that was._

_The concept of... a soul..._


	4. Wonder

**|||. Wonder**

Hands clasped behind his head, Lucas stared at the artificial stars of the colony, chewing on a piece of candy, thinking of the mobile suit that black Unicorn had been fighting. When he'd checked his father's records, nothing matched exactly, yet there was a hidden file he'd managed to discover. Inside had been something about a certain _NZ-000 Queen Mansa, _which bore a vague resemblance, but nothing else. He sat up.

Maybe, _maybe_ if he learned more about this _Queen Mansa_, then he'd learn more about that green mobile suit! Though, wiping grass off his back, he couldn't go to Mom or Dad and ask, as then they'd find out he'd been rummaging through their files. The only one to ask was Léon, but she'd been quiet ever since the day after yesterday. He frowned.

After learning that female mobile suit pilot's name, and after having sworn to get in to see her the day after, again he'd been denied. The patient needed all the rest she could get for a couple days. Léontine had told him so, yet, still, he...

"Come on, snap out it Lucas! Pull yourself together!"

His heart was racing. No, he wasn't in love; he hadn't even met the pilot yet. Though, from what he remembered seeing back then, she looked to be around Léontine's age, maybe a little older. Trying to calm himself, he watched over to a bench and sat down, stretching out. A man jogged passed and he wondered then if exercise would keep his mind off the hot blood pumping through his heart, yet abandoned the idea. There was a chance he may run to the medical facility and try again. He didn't want to be denied a third time, not yet.

He leaned forward, linking his hands together as he stretched. All he could do was learn more about that green mobile suit, perhaps find out more about its pilot.

The _Queen Mansa_, from the file, required a New-type pilot. This was because of its psycho-communicator system, which only a New-type could use effectively. By using their thoughts alone, a New-type could control its weaponry and maneuverability to max efficiency. There'd been a detailed analysis of its functions and various weaponry, as well as its overall reliability both in and out of combat, but nothing of the pilot. All the other reports he'd browsed through had at least one or two notable pilots listed as having used them. And, when he'd searched for similar suits like the _Queen Mansa_, everything had been locked down tight, his Dad having done that for a reason. There was always a legitimate reason behind every action he did, after all. The reason, maybe Léontine would know.

Yes, he knew now, he'd have to ask her about it. It was the only option, the only thing that would occupy his mind until he could finally go in to see the female mobile suit.

—◄╟╬╢►—

At his sister's workplace, a company that transported supplies and equipment between the various colonies around Side 3, and sometimes even further, Lucas stared down at his watch. Her shift was almost over. Leaning against one of the easier accessible hanger entrance doors, hands in his pockets, he waited. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. An hour. Her shift should have been over by now.

Scratching the back of his neck, he decided to head back home. Knowing his luck, she was already there, helping to fix up something with Dad or Mom, as both of them worked on mobile suits and other types of equipment in their spare time. As he walked down the sidewalks towards his house, not bothering to take in any of the sights or sounds around him this late at night, he pulled another piece of candy from his pocket and started to chew it thoughtfully.

Léontine works on mobile suits more than he does himself, and knows more about them than he'd even cared to, and she's the one who calls _him_ the engineering nerd. His whole family was a bunch of nerds, now that he thought about it. So, then, what did that make him? The image of the female mobile suit pilot unconscious on the stretcher surfaced then and he shook it away. There's no way he'd even be a mobile suit pilot— that was out of the question. Nor was he as interested in the intricacies of engineering as his father. He wasn't a work-a-holic like his mother— or quite as bossy. Even at all, really. Léontine, he wondered how alike the two of them were under their surfaces, finally summarizing with a grimace that they couldn't be more unalike, as he came up to his house's front door.

Instead of using the front door, he went around to the back and found Léontine there, smoking something. A cigarette. She sucked in whatever was contained inside it and looked over at him, smiled faintly, and then put it out on the ground, stepping on the remains with the end of her boot, exhaling whatever was contained inside it back out again.

"Something you need, Lovestruck?" she asked.

Hesitantly, he came forward. "I-I didn't know... that you... erm..."

"Smoked? Only when I can't help it, and that isn't often."

"Right. Well, anyway," he took a seat one of the crates by the warehouse doors, "I have to ask you something."

"Is it about that female pilot? What was her name again…? Marida?"

"No, not her. Not now, anyway." He blushed, holding up his hand. "I-I mean—! I didn't mean anything by that!"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever you say. Well, what is it that you need to ask me? If it isn't about the female pilot, then what could you possibly want from me?"

Lucas looked down and twiddled his thumbs then, "Well," he looked away, "I kind of went through Dad's files, trying to search for this specific type of mobile suit I saw during the broadcast of that battle a few days ago..."

"And?"

"I couldn't find any data on it. But, I did find something about an _NZ-000 Queen Mansa._ It was thoroughly detailed, but there was no records of any pilots like the majority of the other files. You know, like how Amuro Ray was the pilot for the _RX-78-2 Gundam_. The hero of the One Year War."

"Everyone knows that one."

Lucas had caught a hint of forlorn in her voice, the reason unclear. "Alright, then how about Chara Soon piloting the _AMX-015 Geymalk_, during the First Neo-Zeon Movement? She'd been a very reckless person, from what the file said._"_

"_That so?" _She pulled out another cigarette.

He reached a hand towards her. "Um, Léon, I don't think—"

"Like I said, I can't help it." She stared at the ashes from the bud of her cigarette as they shimmed to ground, little flickers of light in the night. After another moment, she threw the cigarette away without using it, and looked over at the warehouse doors. "You want to know about this _Queen Mansa_, yeah? Is that it?"

"Right, that's it."

"As far as I know, it was used by Glemy Toto's forces during the Battle of Axis, during the First Neo-Zeon Movement. And, that was what, seven years ago?" There was a certain lapse to her voice, as if she had trouble getting the words out. Suddenly, she cradled her head in her hand, and closed her eyes. "Ah, I'm sorry, I have a headache from the cigarette. It's been awhile since I've... done it..."

"You don't look so good, Sis, maybe you should lay down and—"

She shook her head, "No, you wanted to know more about the _Queen Mansa_ right?"

He nodded. "The pilot, specifically, or anything that could point me to what the name of that green mobile suit was called."

Léontine clenched a fist at her side. "Sorry, I... I don't know. If Oliver didn't have anything on the pilot, or pilots, then I won't. You said this green mobile suit resembled the _Queen Mansa_?" A nod of confirmation. "And were there any other files that were related?"

"No, they were all locked when I tried to access them."

"Then, I'm sorry, Lucas, I can't help you any further."

"He must have locked them away for a reason."

"The files? Why... do you think that?"

'Well, why else would he lock public files like that, other than they contained information nobody should know about?"

"Moron, none of those files are for the public to view. You accessed them without permission on top of that, and now you're wondering about things you shouldn't. If Dad wanted you or I to see what was in those files, then he would've shown us by now!"

"Y-you're right. Sorry, I... I just..."

"No, I understand. You wanted to know more about something that's been bothering you. Everyone has those types of feelings, it's not uncommon." She walked over and put a hand on her younger brother's shoulder. "I think what you need is some rest. Quit worrying over mobile suits and focus on that girl you've fallen for."

He slapped her hand away. "I told you! I'm not—" Léontine embraced him then. "L-Léon...?"

"Shh. You don't have to hide it, not that you were good at it to begin with," she said with a chuckle. Ending the embrace, she smiled at him. "Now, get some rest already, yeah?"

"I'm still not giving up!" he stated, brown eyes full of stubborn intensity. "Not on whatever is hidden on those files, and certainly not on Marida!"

"Moron, you haven't even met her yet. Who's to say she won't reject you the moment you try and start a conversation?"

"That's why you press the offensive until their defensive line breaks."

"Uh-huh." She made a face befitting a non-amused Haro-unit. "Listen, just go inside and sleep on it. Who knows, maybe you'll figure something out in your dreams."

Lucas glared at her, "Very funny." As he got to his feet, he went passed her and called over his shoulder as he got to the backdoor of the house, "I'm being serious, you know. I won't give up."

"Whatever, weirdo!" she called back, keeping a grin on her face until he went inside, where it then proceeded to droop down into a pained frown. She turned her gaze towards the cigarette she'd carelessly tossed to the ground and put it out. Looking over at the warehouse, she grit her teeth. Of all the things he wanted to talk about, it was the _Queen Mansa_. And, on top of that, bringing up Chara Soon— a name that she'd wanted to bury since learning it. The person behind it.

She sat down on the crate and sighed. Lucas was so stiff-necked, she forgot how sharp-witted he could be sometimes. Just like Monique. Léontine looked down at the smashed cigarette. No, just like Mom. Turning her attention to what passed as the night-sky in the colony, she thought she saw ten lights far away, shining faintly in the darkness.

—◄╟╬╢►—

Hands clasped behind his back just like before, only now on his bed, Lucas went over the conversation he'd just had with Léontine in his head again.

Yes, he was certain of it now— she'd used Dad's given name. Oliver. Though, too tired to think of why, he just dismissed it as something she'd picked up from Mom, as the two of them were so alike anyway, so what was the use of wondering about her using Dad's given name then? Absolutely nothing... and yet...

He turned over and stared at the wall. Something in her tone of voice made him have his doubts.

* * *

**A / N:** I'm going to be doing Author's Notes every three chapters or so for this story. I usually don't do them, but I thought this time around, why not? The thing I wanted to talk about in this Note was the story length. The story isn't going to be long, but it won't be short either. I'd say, roughly the length of a novella, which is around 17,000-40,000 words. 17,000 and down, generally, are short story and novelette lengths while 40,000 and up is generally considered novel length. I predict around a 20,000 length, maybe a bit more (excluding line breaks, Author's Notes, and the like).

This story and my Attack on Titan story, _Caged No More_, are the ones I'll be primarily focused on for the time being. Which, _Caged No More_ is a novel length work.

Ah, also, I've chosen an over-encompassing song choice for this story. It's _Even Heaven _by Aimer. Who, not to mention, sang the ending credit songs to Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn episodes 6 (_RE: I AM_) and 7 (_StarRingChild_).


	5. Presence

**|V. Presence**

_Ple Seven closed Ple Eleven's cockpit hatch and floated back towards the staging area platform, one hand on the railing while her other adjusted the helmet of her normal suit. She flipped on her comlink and gave her the thumbs up. She backed up as soon as her partner started powering on her mobile suit, the single eye of her Qubeley faintly glowed with a purplish light. It moved around hesitantly from side to side, and then the Qubeley lurched forward, hitting the railing. Over the comlink, Ple Eleven was frantic, and Ple Seven wondered then how her personality developed the way it had. Her… reluctance…_

_"Don't sweat it," she told her. "Pull back… away from the railing. Slowly, yeah, like that." She held up her hands and guided her younger sister until she'd done as instructed. Going to the other side of the railing, she pointed down at the launch pad her Qubeley would attach itself to, then at the hanger bay doors and the vacuum of space outside. "Secure your Qubeley's feet to the pad and then, when I give the signal, I want you to propel yourself forward and launch. Once you're out there, do a couple of basic maneuvers for me." She looked back at her and waved. "Think you can do that?"_

_"Uh-huh! R-right!" Ple Eleven's disemboweled came to her ears. "And once I'm done with the maneuvers, then what?"_

_"I'll join you, that's what."_

_"Ple Eleven, launching…!"_

_Ple Seven turned away as her partner flew past, the heat from her Qubeley's thrusters felt even as she was already out the hanger bay doors. Her grey mobile suit became just an insignificant speck in the vastness of space then, and Ple Seven called her on the comlink again, telling her to start performing the basic maneuvers after she'd situated herself. Content with her partner's steady progress thus far, she leaned back on the railing. After watching her partner for a time, she heard someone approaching and looked over, blinking upon who it was. The eldest sister herself._

_"Seven, I need to speak with you," she said, briefly watching Ple Eleven in her Qubeley do some type of barrel-roll. "Whatever you're doing here can wait." Ple Eleven's Qubeley weaved in and out of an imaginary debris field and did another barrel-roll._

_"Is it about that hateful glare you got going for you?"_

_Her older sister's eyes went to her, "I'm not the type for tasteless remarks."_

_"Yeah, you're right, that's more Six's style." She checked in on Ple Eleven, getting confirmation that she was "just fine" and "comfortable", then went back to Ple Two. "She'll laugh at someone getting blow up. Poof."_

_"Listen to me. I sense a presence, not one of us, and it… agitates me."_

_"If it's Master you're talking about..."_

_Ple Two shook her head. "No, not Glemy." Her hand made a fist. "Every once in a while, at the back of my mind, I feel this presence. It's very faint."_

_"Maybe Four can help you. She's—"_

_"Politely declined. Three said if she felt anything, she'd tell me. Five and Six don't care. Eight through Twelve… I haven't spoken with."_

_"You want me to help you… what?"_

_"If you ever feel something at the back of your mind that you can't explain, I want you to tell me. There's… something familiar about it."_

_She shrugged. "And if I don't?"_

_"If you or any of the others don't feel anything, then it's only affecting me."_

_"So, does this mean you'll be warming up to the rest of us from now on?" Ple Seven did a half turn. "Whenever we eat you always sit by yourself. The younger ones give you… odd stares…"_

_"Nine glares at me. Your point?"_

_"You notice?"_

_She scowled. "What makes you so…"_

_"Easygoing?"_

"Annoying."

—◄╟╬╢►—

Marida stared at the cast still on her arm, crutches laying against the bench as she took note of all the flowers in the medical facility's outdoor garden. The majority of them were an almost bluish shade of purple, and she was again reminded of her mobile suit back then. The _AMX-04G Qubeley_. If that woman somehow managed to acquire hers, then perhaps— _no, her sisters' suits were all destroyed._ Nothing but floating debris, at the most. The more she tried to still deny it, the harder reality hit her back.

She flexed her fingers inside the cast. Only a couple of more days and she wouldn't need it anymore. Her leg too. If she didn't do anything rash, or a previously undiscovered injury surfaced, she could be out of the hospital in a couple of more weeks. But, then, once she was released, where would she go? The contact Father had mentioned, the one he made arrangements with— what were they like? Were they a man or a woman? One person or two? She looked at the flowers again. The eye of the _Qubeley_ stared back at her and she looked away, turning her attention to the other patients either roaming the garden or sitting on the benches like herself. The memories were still painful, even after all that's happened. She just couldn't… forget them.

_Ple Twelve steadied herself when her older sister hit her back, offering words of praise as they exited the Zero-G chamber. She nodded when Ple Nine told her they'd start practice maneuvers right away, as both of their grasps of piloting were in sync, by her knowledge. As the two of them then came back to the hanger, she saw that Ple Eleven's Qubeley was already out. Ple's Two and Seven were near her mobile suit docking position, where they appeared to be chatting. Next to her, Ple Nine scuffed again._

_"Acting all friendly now." She looked back at her. "Well, we'll show her, won't we Twelve? Just because we're part of the younger ones, doesn't mean she can look down on us!"_

The presence she'd felt that day, the one that'd called out to her. Who was it? The more she thought about, the more she couldn't shake the feeling that it was one of her sisters, but if that was so, then which of them was it? Was it even one of the original twelve?

Marida gathered her crutches and went over to the flowers, plucking a handful. Grasping them between her fingers, she went over the possibilities. Without a doubt, Ple Three was gone, sacrificing herself to destroy that red mobile suit and its pilot. One of the flowers dropped. Ple Eleven was caught in the line, along with Ple's Four through Five. A few more flowers fell. That left Ple's Two, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten. Most likely, Ple Nine went down, or else she'd heard mention of her by now, somewhere. Felt her undeniable presence. Ple Six, she hadn't interacted with her often, back then, and she was sure Ple Eight and Ten were also gone. More flowers went to the ground and she held the last one, staring at its green stem and purple petals. If it was Ple Seven, she'd already been down to visit her, whether she was allowed to or not. Plus, with her being adrift in space in her damaged _Qubeley_…

That left Ple Two, but…

—◄╟╬╢►—

Léontine watched Lucas as he spoke with the receptionist for what seemed like the millionth time, in vain asking to see the female mobile suit pilot. A hand in her pocket, she took out the note Mom had given her. _Don't let him do anything that will make him embarrass himself too bad,_ it read. She looked back up at him, trying to tell jokes to get on the receptionist's good side, only to get disinterest and the same answer of _"sir, I've already told you, she isn't allowed to have any visitors for the time being"_. Crunching up the note, she put it back in her pocket and let out an exasperated sigh. He was true to his word, she had to give him that. So stubborn, just like Mom.

Turning her attention to the window, she looked down at the garden where patients were roaming around in. The majority of them were workers injured on the job or older men and women, but a few were young. Of the younger ones, the girl holding the purple flower was probably Marida, given the hair color and posture. Still standing with her back straight, like a good little soldier of Neo-Zeon. Her eyes were focused on that flower, and Léontine wondered then if the color strongly reminded her of the _Qubeley's_ single eye. It was close to the same shade, after all.

What kind of person are you now? She wanted to ask. Are you still stiff with responses, following orders like the soldier you were created to be, or have you found some sense of yourself that is truly your own? No, of course you have, haven't you? All of them had, back then, hadn't they? A faint smile came to her then as she put her hand to the window.

"What are you now, Twelve?"

She whispered the words.

—◄╟╬╢►—

_What are you now, Twelve?_

There it was again. That voice.

Marida looked up at one of the windows where the main entrance was, seeing nothing but the glass. She hadn't imagined it, no. She caught a glimpse of two individuals, feeling a certain chill as they left the medical facility. The one in back, they'd made eye contact for the briefest of moments. The chill was from how cold the girl's stare had been, like that of a corpse, which lit up as if life thawed them out as soon as they shifted to the boy in front, becoming visibly brighter. Warmer.

Blue eyes like her own.


	6. Change

**V. Change**

"Hello, Ms. Cruz," the man in a casual shirt and tie greeted, holding out his hand. "I'm here to take you home." Draped over his arm was a coat, and he set it down on the lounge chair in the hospital's guest area. His smile was so… welcoming.

"Are you the contact?"

With a nod, he looked at the crutches beside her chair. He blinked and went back to her. "How long are you going to be on the crutches for?"

"They let me keep them. They're… sentimental." She stood up and walked a few paces, showing her stable condition. "I wouldn't need them if all that's required is walking. Up and down stairwells, and any other tasks that require applying more than minimal pressure to my legs will be difficult without them, though." Going back to the chair and taking one of the crutches, she looked at something written on its wooden finish. "'Good luck with your new journey'," she read after a moment, "'we'll be rooting for you…'." She smiled, softly. Looking up, she put the crutches under her other arm and accepted his hand. "My future is in your hands."

The man shook his head, "No, it's in yours alone. I'm just here to help you along the way." Putting on his coat, he turned to the receptionist at the front desk and waved bye, then motioned for her to follow. As she walked in a militaristic fashion behind him, he once again shook his head. "I'm not your commanding officer, so you can relax…"

Her shoulders loosened. "Understo…" She bit back on something that'd been shackling her existence since her birth. "Right."

As the doors opened and they exited the hospital, the man exhaled loudly and wiped his forehead. Glancing back, he smiled again. "This heat really is killing me. You'd think they would regulate this colony to be one set temperature, but they went the natural route. Mimicking Earth's change of seasons." He pointed a hand at a hill, where a railing was at the top. "The grass is artificial, but it feels like the real thing. All of this to enhance the experience for those of us living on Side 3."

Marida nodded. She turned her head slightly, thinking of the garden in the hospital. It hadn't been artificial. The flowers, the grass, the soil — everything had been real to the touch. To the feeling. She went back to the man, who had fallen silent. That's right… she'd never caught his name… Now was an appropriate time to ask.

"My name?" he said, thumping himself on the head after a moment. "Oh! I never did tell you, did I? I'm so sorry. It's Oliver. Oliver May." He then pulled a picture from his breast pocket, looking at it once before showing it to her over his shoulder, "This is my family. You're going to be staying with us until you think you're well enough to be on your own. But don't think that means we'll just leave you. If you ever—"

"May I hold the picture?"

"Oh, yes. Here." He put it in the palm of her hand. "The one standing on the right is my wife. The one to the left is my son, Lucas, and—"

"Who is the girl next to him?" she asked, immediately regretting the action. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright. The girl is his older sister. Léontine."

"Léontine…" She stared at the ballcap she was wearing, which cast a shadow over her features. Yet, even so, unmistakably, she felt a sense of familiarity.

_Ple Nine dragged her along as she went to disrupt Ple Seven and Ple Two's conversation. "That's right, we'll show her!" her older sister huffed as she hurried along, their feet clattering on platform. Ple Seven had noticed her loud arrival and was waving them over, while Ple Two didn't seem to care. She hadn't even turned to acknowledge their presence. Ple Nine gave her a death stare nonetheless. "Figures, she's not even looking in our direction…" she told her in a whisper. _

_"Hey, you two, what brings you guys over here?" Ple Seven thumbed a finger to the left, where Ple Eleven was still doing maneuvers outside in the vacuum of space. "You came to watch her too?" Nudging Ple Two, she grinned. "Two over here was thinking of giving up her spot as Master's number one. Eleven is too much for even someone of her skill!"_

_Ple Nine crossed her arms and looked back at her. Shaking her head, she then went back to Ple Seven. "We just got back from training… to kick your butts. If that number one spot is gonna be taken from Two over there, it's gonna be by me a—"_

_"Nobody else?" Ple Two had turned her head slightly, fixing one cold blue eye on her. "How laughable."_

_"What was that?" Ple Nine grit her teeth and showed a fist. "Why don't you just come at me now, we'll see who'll be laughing then…"_

_Their eldest sister smirked. "Fighting with you would be a waste of my time."_

_Reaching forward, Ple Nine grabbed her uniform's sleeve, twisting. "Listen, you may be older than the rest of us, but that doesn't give you the right to look down on us like we're trash… Just because you're his favorite, doesn't mean we aren't just as good as you are…! You… you…" Her fingers pulled at her sleeve, crinkling and stretching the fabric. As she looked up at her older sister, her eyes were watering. Then, the water evaporated to reveal raging fire. Ple Nine pushed on her arm and spun on her heel, fists at her side. "Come on, Twelve, we have more practice to do." She stormed off._

_Ple Twelve had no choice but to follow. She noticed her head more downcast than when she'd boldly walked up to them, but kept silent. _

_"She really looks up to you."_

_Ple Two kept her eyes on her two younger sisters as they left the hanger, the door closing shut behind them. Her sleeved was ruined now. "Is that how you see it?"_

—◄╟╬╢►—

Léontine ran her hand along her old TOLRO-800, its finely polished finish. The red paint. How it glided beneath her fingers and the way it seemed to tell her all about the things she's seen; the things she'd done. Leaning against the warehouse doors was her mother, and her eyes never left the machine as she spoke.

"There are over a hundred modifications that I've done to spruce it up." Her mother took something from her workstation and now stood beside her. "Yet, no matter how many modifications I put on her, she's still the same machine. Since she was first thought up in the minds of the engineers who built her, put on blueprints, and then manufactured — she's only had one purpose. Cleaning up messes… and the mistakes of the past…" Smiling at whatever it was in her hand, her mother held it out for her to take.

Which, she did.

It was small picture, like one you'd keep in a small living quarters. The boy in the picture was faded, the quality worn from the years that'd gone by since it'd been taken. Yet, even she could see that his smile made it come to life and no amount of time was going to change that. The more she studied the boy, his soft eyes and baby-like face, blonde hair… the more his Zeon uniform looked out of place. He looked like… No, even with his gentle features… he was proud. Proud to wear the uniform; proud to be a member of the Principality of Zeon. His smile reflected this clearly. Behind his eyes there was a strong sense of duty. Determination.

Looking up from the picture, Léontine waited for her mother to say something, but she was gazing at the 800 and didn't seem to be paying any attention. A minute passed and her mother still didn't look as if she were ready to say anything again until Léontine offered it back.

"I want you to keep it. It's time I… stopped holding onto the past so longingly…" She nodded at the 800, "Like machines, people grow obsolete as time passes them by. They become useless and are abandoned as the world around them advances. Some… sooner than others... But, unlike machines, no matter how many modifications are put on them, they are built for more than one purpose. It may not seem like that at first, but… unlike machines, people change. They grow, they adapt. They learn."

Léontine stared at the picture in her hand again, as her mother continued.

"Like the boy in that picture. Going from a simple bratty kid on the farm to a soldier just like that…" She turned to her, "Yet, for you…" She touched her hair and smiled. "The past is something that's still keeping you from that change. Even if it doesn't seem that way, there's something holding you down. It weighs on you and I can see it everytime you come here."

"And… what do you except me to do about it?"

"Accept it."

Turned to her, Léontine was locked in her embrace.

"And… when you do… don't hesitate. Don't slow down, don't stop. But… don't forget either." Her mother started stroking her hair. "And, if and when think you've lost your way… look on the past fondly and keep your head held high for what lies in store for the future. Look forward and keep going…. no matter what happens…"

Gripping the picture between her fingers, Léontine buried the side of her face into her mother's shoulder. "Mom… I…"

_"And why do you think that…?" Ple Two turned back to her younger sister, who leaned against the railing._

_"You're more thickheaded than I thought…" she said with a chuckle, fiddling with her comlink._

_"Don't patronize me, Seven."_

_"I wasn't. It's just…" she scratched her cheek, "If you noticed the way she looks at you all the time, then how can you not notice it? Nine admires you. I bet Nine is the one who looks up to you the most."_

_"And her hostility towards me is her way of showing affection? That's—"_

_"Frustration."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_Ple Seven shook her head, "She's frustrated because you're such a stiff. That smug, 'I'm more superior than you losers' face you make don't help either. In addition to the scowling…" Touching her comlink, Ple Seven then ordered Ple Eleven to bring her Qubeley in for landing, telling her it was time for a short break. She went back to her, "Come on, it's not time for a meal or anything, but this is as good an opportunity as any. We'll bring Eleven along too."_

_Ple Seven started walking past her. "And what are you planning?"_

_Her younger sister shrugged as she looked over her shoulder, "You'll see. Oh… and tell Eleven to meet me in the messhall! You better be there too…!"_

_Watching her leave the hanger like Ple's Nine and Twelve, Ple Two wondered what it'd be like if their numbers had been reversed. Just as Ple Eleven's Qubeley came boosting in to her docking position, she went to the railing and put her hands on it, looking out into the darkness of space. The stars. How many of them there were._

"Thank you..."

—◄╟╬╢►—

Staring at the TOLRO-800 once again, her mother having left to check on other things, Léontine wondered how much Ple Twelve had changed as she'd done back then. If it was for the better, and, as her mother had said… If she'd grown.

She wondered if she was tied down by the past or cut free.


End file.
